Break in the Soul
by staceycj
Summary: Bridge piece between On The Head of A Pin and It's a Terrible Life. What happened after Cass left?
1. Chapter 1

Sam made the briefest of eye contact with the sometimes friendly angel before he disappeared in a ruffle of wings and a puff of air. A surge of anger cut through Sam like a knife. Castiel had no business being anywhere near his brother. It was his fault that Dean was in the shape he was in, his fault that Sam had to see tubes coming from his brother's mouth and nose, his fault his brother's right eye was so swollen that the doctors had feared that it may be damaged, it was his fault that his brother looked so vulnerable, and so worn, and so ready to die. If it hadn't been for the damned angel Dean wouldn't have had to suffer at the hands of the torturer from hell, the master of all torture masters, the teacher of the innocent---the maker of demons. If Castiel had been paying attention to his work, to his job, he would have known that the demons were getting their prince out of his prison.

Sam took a breath and tried not calm his body, because when he was angry the demon blood raged within him and it manifested in some of the most creative ways, and he didn't think that his brother needed to see or know about some of those ways only a few days after he woke up.

"Hey Dean, and I brought you some contraband." He said holding up a bag from a fast food restaurant. Dean didn't respond. Sam, confused, moved closer to his brother, and for a moment he thought Dean was asleep, but small hitch in his breath told him that his brother was far from sleeping, he was crying.

"Dean?"

"Go away Sam," Dean said in a thin strained voice. It was a voice of a child, not of the man who had gone to hell for him.

"What's wrong Dean?"

"Go away Sam." He repeated in a voice a bit stronger.

"Dean."

"I said go away Sam!" He yelled with all of the voice he had left. Sam took a step back. What in the hell had Castiel done to him while he was gone? What had that son of a bitch said to his brother to make him go from being functional, having a bit of his usual spunk, to crying and so distressed he didn't want Sam in the room.

Sam obeyed his brother's command, but he didn't obey to the letter. Instead he went into the hallway and he sat down on the floor just outside his brother's room, playing sentinel against all comers, angel or demon.

Each day Sam went in his brother's room, and tried to get him to talk. If he was lucky, Dean said to go away, or to leave him alone, if he wasn't so lucky, Dean was comatose with his eyes open, tears leaking out of the corners and dampening his pillows to the point of needing changed.

Sam hadn't known anyone was capable of as many tears as his brother shed in his days at the hospital, but the evidence was clear to anyone who came and visited, nurses and doctors asked Sam what they could do, and Sam had no answer. For the first time in his life, he didn't have an answer as to how to help his brother. He knew the basics, what Dean was allergic to, what medications mad him go out of his mind, and which ones did the best for his pain, but he couldn't answer the doctors when they asked how to repair his brother's damaged psyche. Words like trauma, psych ward, depression all circled around his brother. Sam knew it wouldn't matter what they did for Dean, nothing was going to help him, short of a certain angel being murdered. And Sam knew exactly who wouldn't mind getting some angel blood on his hands---him. And what did it matter? he was already going to hell, he might as well seal the deal. Dean had done hit for him, and he was sure as hell going to do whatever he could to help his brother, and if that meant a trip downstairs for him, with no return ticket, that was fine with him. Dean deserved better.

It was the second week, and he was still spending most of his days sitting outside of Dean's door, when the doctor came by and said that there wasn't anything further they could do to aid his brother's physical wounds and that Sam could take him home.

There was no home for them aside from the car, and Sam was fairly certain that Dean's broken and battered body needed a bed, not the back seat of a muscle car. He pulled his cell out of his coat pocket and called Bobby.

"Bobby?"

"Sam? Where in the hell have you two been?"

"I'm at the hospital."

"You hurt?"

"No. Dean was beat almost to death by Alistair." There was silence on the other end.

"Why didn't you call sooner boy? You didn't do anything stupid did you?"

"No."

"Sam. What did you do?"

"Nothing Bobby."

"Sam. You sound guilty."

"I'm guilty."

"Of what?"

"This whole mess. It was all my fault Bobby. It's my fault he's in there, it's my fault he went to hell, it's my fault he's so messed up." Sam yelled into the phone.

"Son. Things happen…."

"That's what you say when you lose your job. Not when you are the sole responsible party for having your brother thrown into hell."

"Sam. Listen to me." he heard Sam's breathing on the other end go from frantic to measured to even and then he began to speak again. "Sam. Your brother made choices, same as you. He's responsible for some as well. You need to just take a breath and come here. Both of you boys need to come here and rest for a bit."

"Okay. Thanks Bobby."

"I'll see you soon." Bobby hung up. Sam slipped his phone back into his pocket, sighed, straightened his 6'4 frame and went into the room. Dean was sitting on the bed, fully clothed starring at the wall.

"Dean?" His older brother didn't move. Sam came to stand in front of Dean. Dean's lackluster green eyes didn't budge from the wall. Sam knelt down in front of him. "Dean. We need to go." No reaction. "We need to head to Bobby's." The tears started afresh, and Sam's head hung. He didn't know what to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was a ghost of himself, he walked to the car, but his eyes spilled over with constant tears, Sam steered him towards the passenger's side door and Dean looked at the car, stepped away from it and ran into Sam's chest.

"You have to get in." Sam said gently. He wanted to scream, but he knew his brother well enough to know that yelling wouldn't exactly get him anywhere.

"No. I don't want to." Sam closed his eyes and prayed for help, was pretty sure that God wasn't listening, because after all he was the boy infected with the demon blood, and why should God listen to him now? It wasn't like he listened when he asked that his brother not be sent to hell, or when he begged that Dean be relieved of the hell memories.

Sam was able to manhandle his brother into the car, it wasn't easy, or pleasant, but Dean was inside. Sam got in, looked over to check on his older brother, found him curled almost into a ball against the door, sighed, and started the car. Seeing Dean in such distress made tears sting the back of his eyes, and that hadn't happened since Ruby found him and made him what he was.

The car ride was silent, mostly. About every hundred miles Dean would turn to Sam, eyes red, swollen, and watery and say, "Pull over." And Sam would, Dean would get out, and he would retch on the side of the road, wipe his mouth, pant a moment, and then slowly pull himself back into the car, and the tears would start and he would ask, "Do we have to go to Bobby's?" Sam noted that every time he said it he said it as if he were afraid. Afraid of Bobby, afraid that Bobby was going to be anything but worried about him. Sam didn't understand. Sam didn't understand what Castiel had said to his brother, but whatever it had been it must have been soul breaking, and that worried Sam most of all.

They were less than one hundred miles away from the Salvage yard, from home, Dean turned his water logged green eyes towards his brother and said, "I did this." Sam turned.

"Did what?"

"This. This whole mess." Dean said in a somewhat stronger voice.

"The seals?"

"Yeah. I broke the first seal."

"No you didn't Dean."

"When I picked up Alistair's razor, when I started the torture, I was the one who started this. I was the one who broke the first seal."

"You don't know that Dean…"

"Yes. I. Do!" Eyes that had been dull moments before were sharp with anger, they glistened and shone like two emeralds, hot with conviction.

"How do you?"

"Alistair told me…"

"He's a demon, they lie."

Dean refrained from making the comment that Ruby was more than likely doing the same thing, and sighed and said softly, "Castiel confirmed it." He said gravely.

Sam licked his own lips and cursed God, heaven, angels, demons, and their life. Dean didn't need this added weight. Dean didn't deserve the guilt. He was a good man, did his best for everyone.

"You didn't mean…"

"I don't want platitudes Sam. I just wanted you to know why Bobby is going to kick me out. I have to tell him." He said firmly and then he looked down and said much softer. "He'll ditch me. Just like Dad." And Dean turned back to the window and continued to stare at the passing trees and scenery like nothing had been said. His emotions belied only by the tears streaming down his face. Sam bit his lip, wishing that he could fix this as easily as he had killed Alistair. Bobby would fix this. Yes. Bobby would take care of Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

The closer they got to the Salvage yard the more Dean seemed to shrink into himself. Sam tried to draw him into conversation a couple of times, even tried to get him to make fun of Sam's taste in music. He threatened to put the Ipod back into his baby, you know, further the douching process, and Dean didn't even blink, didn't even look as if the threat registered. Sam clutched the wheel tighter, and the murderous thoughts returned. He wondered if his special demon powers would work on angels, wondered if he could take one of them out, because right now, he would like to pull Castiel out of his host and do some very unkind things to him. He would like to repay the favor that he had bestowed upon Dean.

"Dean, we're almost to Bobby's." He said as he turned off the highway. Dean turned to him, and for the first time showed an ounce of recognition, and with that recognition came fear.

"I don't want to go." Sam was taken aback by the childish note in his brother's voice. Dean was always strong, commanding, unwavering, and the demons took that from him. He was weak, child like, and scared. The murderous thoughts ramped up, and he forced himself to appear calm for Dean's sake.

"Bobby will help us figure it all out."

"No. I don't want to go."

"Dean, he'll be able to figure this out, he'll help."

"No helping. He'll never speak to me again. I'll never be able to go to his house again." Tears started afresh and his voice hitched. "He'll ditch me."

"No, he won't Dean."

"For something like this, yeah, he will."

"Dean, he won't do that to you. He's like a dad."

"Why wouldn't a fake dad ditch me over this? Dad ditched me for less."

"Dean…"

"I just don't want to hear him say that I screwed up. I know I did. I'm such a disappointment. I'm just not the man anyone hoped I would be."

"Dean.." Now Sam's voice hitched. He swallowed thickly. Dean was always exactly what a man should be, honorable, loyal, dedicated, and truly genuine. Despite the lying he did to survive, Dean was honest, helped others, truly wanted nothing more than their gratitude. Dean was the kind of man that Sam always wanted to be.

Dean looked up at Sam, and Sam caught a glimpse of his brother's hurt eyes and he swallowed the platitudes and the comfort. Dean wouldn't be comforted by any of it. Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter and vowed that he would kill any angel that came across his path.

Sam pulled into the drive of Singer Salvage and Dean starred straight ahead, the only indication that he was scared was the blood trickling down his chin. Dean was biting his lip so hard that he had broken skin at some point. Sam put the car into park and looked to Dean. He pulled out the bandanna that he kept in his pocket for the times when they were hunting and one of them started bleeding. He grabbed Dean's face and Dean allowed him, that was the first thing that unsettled Sam's stomach. The second was when he had to say, "Dean, quit biting down. I need to stop the bleeding." And like a child, Dean obeyed and tears trickled down his face and wet Sam's hand as he cleaned his brother's mouth.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered. "I didn't know. I just wanted the pain to stop. I'm sorry."

Sam bit his own lip and wrapped his arms around Dean. "I know you didn't know Dean. I know." He said unsure of what else to do. This was foreign territory, Sam was uncomfortable, Dean had never just cried like this, never just allowed ANYONE to hug him and touch him, and he most certainly never showed this much weakness in front of him before. It unsettled Sam to his core, and made him want to bolt. He wasn't prepared for this, this wasn't how he pictured Dean coming back to him. He pictured a fully functional, no problems, just happy to be back among the living Dean, not broken, scared, hurt, and sad. He was out of his depth.

Sam heard Bobby's screen door slam and he looked up, Dean pulled away quickly and resumed his starring out of the windshield. Sam got out of the car, sighed, slammed the door, and went towards Bobby, Bobby closing the gap as he walked towards Sam.

"Sam."

"Bobby."

"What's going on?" he asked indicating Dean.

Sam shrugged. "Alistair, the grand torturer himself, the one who…" Sam swallowed hard, licked his lips, scuffed the ground with his boot, "the one who tortured Dean, Uh, he, he got out and Castiel made him go and face Alistair."

"He did what?" Bobby asked dismayed.

"He made Dean face him."

"What in the hell for?" Bobby asked anger lacing every word.

"That's what Dean needs to tell you. But he's scared."

"Scared?" The information coming at Bobby was getting more and more worrisome. "Does he have the ghost sickness again?" he asked. The only way Dean Winchester had ever shown fear in all of the years that Bobby had known the Winchesters was when he was under the influence of the sickness, and Bobby couldn't imagine another time or place, well aside from Hell, where Dean would show his brother his fear. And he most certainly didn't understand how anything Dean could tell Bobby would be worth being afraid of him.

"No, he doesn't have the sickness again. He's afraid of you."

"Me?"

"Of what you will say."

"This should be good." Bobby said and marched straight to the car, opened the door and pulled Dean out by his shirt. "What in the hell do you mean boy, sitting in the car, acting all afraid of me. Come on kid."

Dean stood, but wouldn't look the older hunter in the eye. "I…" He started, and then licked his lips, the taste of blood echoing in his mouth, the sound of shrieks pounding in his ears, the feeling of the knife as it bore down on some poor soul's body…he tried to shake the memories out, tried to put up his wall, the wall that usually didn't let anything out or in, but the wall that had been so strong once upon a time was crumbling, and he wasn't strong enough to keep it up anymore. "I started everything." He finally said, waiting and scared for what Bobby would say.

"What do you mean boy?"

"I broke the first seal."

"What? How?"

"When a righteous man spills blood in hell, the first seal is broken. I broke it."

"What did you do?"

"I…I…I tortured people. I…I was given a choice, and I took the wrong one. To stop my torturing, I tortured someone else." Tears were coming fast and furious, his lips and cheeks were trembling with the effort not to cry. "I was weak. The angels wanted me to use my new skills on Alistair to get information out. All I managed to do was…." Dean completely turned from Bobby and began to sob. Bobby's heart hurt, one the one hand he couldn't believe what Dean had done, on the other hand he had no idea what kind of pain Dean had been in when he was in Hell, no idea what it was like down there. The one thing Bobby did know was that Dean was remorseful, so remorseful that it was likely to kill him, Dean's heart had always been too big, and in Hell they had found the perfect way to break him.

"Dean." Bobby said firmly trying not to let his tears break past his barrier. Dean didn't turn. Bobby put a hand on Dean's shoulder and tried to turn him to face him, but Dean stayed firmly rooted to his spot. "Dean. Look at me kid."

"I can't." Dean said finally allowing the sobs to come to the surface.

"Then you listen. You didn't mean to do it…"

"I did it. I did it. I was too weak to stand by who I am. I was too…"

"You were in Hell Dean." Bobby said cutting of Dean's tirade. "You do things you would never do in situations that are out of the ordinary. You think the boys coming home from Iraq have done things, things that are them? That they are proud of? That they ever thought they would do? Dean. War does things to a man, makes him do things he's not proud of…"

Dean turned to Bobby, and for a moment Bobby didn't recognize the man starring at him. "They never started the end of the world."

"Dean…"

Dean stood straight, straighter than he had in days and looked Bobby in the eye. "When are you just going to tell me to get the hell out?"

"What?"

"That's what you're going to say isn't it?"

"What are you talking about boy?"

Dean's postured laxed a little and he looked uncertain. "You are going to ditch me right? I did something unforgiveable."

"No, I'm not going to ditch you. Why would you assume that?"

"Everyone always ditches me when I do something wrong. Dad did. Sammy did. Mom did. Everyone always ditches me when I don't do right." Bobby's heart broke, and Sam shuffled his feet. Bobby put a hand on Dean's slumped shoulder.

"No. No son. I'm not going to ditch you. I told you once that family doesn't end with blood. And I'm family that won't leave." Dean nodded.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry. I didn't know," he said and started to cry again. Bobby looked at Sam, both confused, saddened and out of their depth.


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby tried to console Dean with food that night. It had worked when he was young, when he was a teenager, and hell, it had worked right up until the day before he went to Hell. All it took was something greasy and made at home in a frying pan and Dean would instantly feel better, he would become more talkative, more animated, more Dean. But even when the deep fried chicken and fried potatoes and the coleslaw, and the corn on the cob Dean so especially liked, was sitting in front of him on the table he simply looked at Bobby and said "I'm not hungry Bobby."

The smell of the friend foods made Dean's stomach recoil, it reminded him of the flesh he had personally singed while he was in the pit, not to mention his own flesh sizzling on his bones, just as Ruby had promised would happen. Dean couldn't look Bobby in the face, couldn't see the disappointment, the aggravation, Dean knew he went to a lot of trouble to fix this meal for him, and he let the older hunter down again.

Bobby wasn't disappointed, he was sad, and one look at the bruised and battered face of the boy he loved like a son crushed his heart and made him want to march right down into hell and give them a piece of his mind and a piece of his fist. He looked to Sam. Sam gave a small shrug and continued to shrink in on himself. Sam looked so small sitting at his normal place at the table, looked so vulnerable. "Son you have to eat. You are too thin." Bobby said gently. Dean just gave him huge sad green eyes.

"Dean." Sam tried. The haunted green orbs shifted to Sam. "Dean, please, eat, for me."

"I can't eat." He said finally. "Smells like charred flesh. I can't eat." Bobby and Sam exchanged sad looks.

"I can fix you a salad." Bobby said softly.

"Has the texture of my own intestines." He said. "Food isn't good." He said in a sort of daze.

"You have to eat or drink something Dean. You can't starve." Sam said softly.

"Done it before. I can do it again. Plus I…"

Bobby cut him off, he knew exactly what the boy was going to say, "Boy if you say you deserve to starve so help me god I'll clock you." Dean looked over at Bobby, eyes empty, and tears starting afresh, following the tracks laid down by previous tears.

"I deserve that too." He said and his cheeks began to quiver with the sobs that he had been trying to hold back. Bobby looked at Sam, and Sam simply put his fork down and hung his head. He didn't know how to fix this hole in his brother any more than Bobby did.

"Boy, go on up, take a shower, and get yourself comfortable, we'll watch some TV."

"Can I just sit outside?"

Bobby looked down at his plate and did everything he could to suppress a sigh. "Yeah, son, go ahead." Dean scooted away from the table and slowly trudged outside and shut the door.

"You didn't tell me it was this bad." Bobby said when the coast was clear.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know how bad it is really. I mean, I killed Alistair…."

"You what?"

Sam gulped. "I killed Alistair. I was so mad, I saw Dean lying on the floor, bloody, you've seen his face. You should have seen it right after he punched him. Bobby, he looked…he looked…" Sam swallowed, shuffled his feet and regained his voice. "He was starting to look as bad as he did the night…" He stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose trying to pinch the memories back into their box, into the box that he never opened, the box that contained the images of Jessica burning on the ceiling, his worst memories imaginable. "That night." He finally said and Bobby cast his eyes downward, trying not to recall the mess either. "I was just so furious….I did it. And then I got him to a hospital, they weren't even sure he was going to live Bobby. I couldn't lose my brother for a second time, and then, then Castiel," Sam's eyes grew dark, the sadness and pain was instantly gone, replaced by the cold and calculated hunter that Bobby recognized as John Winchester, but in Sam's face looked alien and twisted. "Castiel put my brother in that predicament, and he had the balls to tell him that this whole thing is HIS fault?" Sam licked his lips, his face a mask of anger. "He has the nerve to tell my brother, to confirm it, that he opened the first seal…what balls, what guts…" Sam ranted. His rant so loud and so furious that neither heard the angel wings fluttering behind him.

"It was necessary." Castiel said. Bobby saw the angel first and when Sam turned and started towards the angel, stalking, using his superior size and build as an intimidation tool, Bobby had the sudden desire to help the younger hunter kill the angel.

"Necessary?! It was fricking necessary to let a demon, who use to torture my brother in Hell by the way, to beat him almost to death?! That was necessary?!"

"I had no intention of allowing your brother to be killed."

"Yeah, you were doing such a bang up job on saving him. I saw how that was working for you."

"That was not what was supposed to happen."

"Then what, pray tell, was supposed to happen you arrogant prick? My brother go all torture master, and then once that's done he becomes self loathing and withdrawn? Yeah, that sounds like an even better plan."

"Samuel Winchester, you can not begin to understand the ways of heaven…"

"What? Why? Because I'm some demon spawn and I can't love any one of God's precious creatures? Well I'll have you know, Dean was mine a whole lot longer than he was God's! I was there for him from the beginning, where was God when he was hurting after Dad, no one came and helped him. Where was God when he was so scared about going to hell that he would start crying? I never saw anyone from heaven come and help me with that! You sons of bitches think you can come here and do whatever in the hell you want to, to my brother and I'm just supposed to sit back and take it because I'm some ass with demon blood coursing through my body, I'm something to be tolerated only because Dean wants it that way. Well I'll have you know, he's MY brother, and from now on, you have to get through me to get to him. Understand me? Do I make myself clear?!" Sam demanded, towering over Castiel, hands clenched at his sides.

"You make yourself very clear."

"Now get the hell out of here. My brother, can't take you dicks right now. You broke him. Now just leave so I can put him back together again." Castiel blinked and disappeared. Sam raked hands through his hair.

"I need air." Sam said and went out the back door. Bobby stood there stunned and amazed. Sam had seemed so indifferent to Dean since his return, and a small smile crept onto the older man's lips at Sam's fury.

"You show them Sammy." Bobby muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam eventually showed up on the front side of the house, and slowly wandered his way over to his brother who was sitting on the porch and while he wasn't sobbing anymore, there were still tears tracking slowly down his face as he starred into nothing.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked as he stood next to his brother. He waiting for a response and got none. Dean didn't even look like he heard him. Sam was afraid that this was going to be permanent for his brother. Sam opted to sit down next to his brother, shoulders touching, just like all of those times Dean had found Sam sitting one place or the other crying. That little touch always told Sam that Dean was there for him, that Dean understood, that he loved and trusted him, Sam hoped that the same touch would feel the same way to Dean. Sam thrust his hands into his pockets and stared straight ahead. "It's cold out here Dean." He said trying to get some kind of response out of his big brother. When none was forthcoming, Sam continued to speak. "Why don't we go inside where it's warm. I think Bobby is making you a hot cup of tea. Mint, I think he said, you know, something that can't possibly taste like anything you had in Hell. You need to get something down your throat and into your stomach. Your stomach must be wondering what in the hell is going on. I mean it's used to being fed hamburger, fried stuff, you know the stuff you like to eat. You can't starve yourself. No use in that. You can't waste away while we are killing those evil sons of bitches."

Dean turned to his little brother, he looked up into Sam's eyes, and it took everything in Sam's power not to turn from his brother's dead, haunted flat green eyes. "I'm not going back out there."

Sam startled. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I can't do this. I'm not strong enough." He looked away from Sam's eyes and hung his head. "Not strong enough." He repeated and held his head in between his knees, and as if he hadn't been crying for days already, began crying again.

"Dean." Sam put a hand on his brother's back, unsure if that was the right course of action, Dean never appreciated touch, and Sam wasn't sure if his brother wanted his demon blood infested brother touching him. "Dean. Listen to me." He ran a hand up and down his brother's spine. "Dean. You are the strongest man I've ever met." Dean said nothing, and Sam was at a loss for words. He didn't have any kind of experience in comforting his brother. Dean had never allowed soothing words to comfort him, nor did he ever give anyone a chance to use them. Dean always closed off and dealt with his own issues h is own way, and his way rarely if ever involved another person.

"No, Sam, I'm not strong. I'm weak. I'm horribly weak. That's why I sold my soul in the first place, because I was too weak to go on living without you at my side. That's why I took Alistair's razor and began torturing, I was too weak. Dad never gave in, Dad almost survived 100 years in the pit and he didn't break, I broke in thirty. I'm not strong Sammy, I'm not."

"You don't know that Dad didn't…"

"I do." Dean cut him off. "I do know. Alistair told me when he told me that I broke the first seal. Dad was a better man than I am. Better hunter. Better everything." Dean licked his lips and turned away from Sam.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is Sam."

"No, it's not. Dad was mean, hurtful, and he did what he did out of revenge. He wasn't a better man than you. Every single life you have ever saved has been because that is what the right thing to do is. You are a good man."

"The righteous man who sheds blood in hell…"

"Dean…"

"I need to just be strong enough to kill myself." Sam swallowed, the idea of living permanently without his brother again sent chills up and down his spine.

"Dean."

"Leave me alone Sam. I'll do it. Just give me time to get the courage."

Sam violently grabbed Dean by his shirt and coat. He pulled him close to his face. "You will never speak like that again! You will not kill yourself. I can't live with you dead." Sam screamed into Dean's blank face.

"You did a fine job the last time." Sam threw him and then punched him in his already swollen face. Instant guilt was replaced by anger.

"You think so? You think I did an okay job by myself. Oh my God you…" Sam wiped a hand down his face. "You have no idea."

"You are fine Sammy. Stronger than ever. I'm just dragging you down." He said as blood trickled from his nose. Dean made no effort to wipe the blood away. Sam felt instantaneous guilt.

"I'm not. I'm not Dean."

"The world will be better if I'm gone. Not like anyone noticed the first time, and not like they'll notice this time."

"Bobby and I would notice." Dean said nothing and continued to stare out into the salvage yard, blood trickling down from his nose, tears streaming from his eyes, and his body hunched over so far that one would never imagine that he was over 6 foot tall.

"Dean. I need you."

"No. No you really don't Sammy." Dean said after a lengthy pause. "You don't need me weighing you down. You need an equal. That isn't me anymore….if it ever was."

"Dean…." Sam was trying to hold his tears back.

"You said once, that you and Ruby saved more people in four months than we did in years. If that's true, then take up with her as a partner, save as many people as you can. I can't save anyone anymore. I just hurt people. I just destroy the world. I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not the brother you looked up to. I'm a failure and a fraud." The tears that threatened broke the dam and Sam began to cry. Dean huddled in more on himself and said, "Go inside Sam. It's cold."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was so out of his head, so not like himself, that when Sam searched him for weapons, he didn't move. He simply watched as Sam took every single blade, shiv, and gun that he had on him. He looked up once Sam had taken the last of the impressive stash and said through lashes tainted with tears, "I can find a way Sam."

"I'm not going to make it easy for you." Sam said sternly.

Dean shrugged. "I always take the hard road anyway."

Sam squared his shoulders and tried not to let the words niggle at him, tried not to let his temper, which had become so much shorter since the whole angel and demon dust up, add some demon blood, and it was very very very hard for Sam not to explode, not to go off on Dean, and tell him what he really thought. And what he really thought made him take a step back, made him a little scared.

_You are so weak. You aren't the man I remember. You aren't my equal. I'm stronger than you._

Sam licked his lips. He couldn't face Dean with these thoughts running through his head. He needed to get a grip, needed to remember, needed to be the brother Dean needed right now. "I'll be inside," he finally said and walked back into the house, left his suicidal brother on the front step, in the cold, and he felt like an ass. His brother was suffering, and all he really wanted to do was kick him in the ass and make him be the man he wanted him to be.

He went into the kitchen, took a cup of coffee, and starred out of the window, watching his brother, and the feelings intensified as he watched tears stream down Dean's face. "What in the hell is the matter with me?" Sam asked aloud.

He was still standing there an hour later watching his brother from the window when Bobby came in behind him.

"All of Dean's weapons are on the table. What's going on?"

"He wants to kill himself." Sam said matter of factly, never taking his eyes off of his brother's form.

"What?"

"He wants to die."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That it was stupid. Then I took all of his weapons. He told me that it doesn't matter, he'll figure out a way." Sam took a deep breath. "Truth is Bobby, I don't think I can help him."

"He's your brother. Of course you can help him."

"Some of the stuff he's been saying, some of the reasons he gives for wanting to die, are some of the reasons I've given him. And the rest…" Sam looked down at his hands. "And the rest, well, I can't help him with the rest. Those bastards tortured him until he had no other choice but to give in. I can't do anything. I can't. There is no way I can help him."

"Boy, turn, look at me." Bobby said as he grabbed Sam's shoulder and guided him in his direction. It took a moment for Sam to meet Bobby's eyes. "Son. Just being there for him, letting him know you care, that's enough."

Sam shook his head, bit his lip and looked back towards the window. "No. No words, no amount of comfort will fix this. He's so broken."

"So, what? That mean you want to leave him behind?"

"No, yes, no, I don't know what to do." Sam said as he drug hands through his hair in frustration.

"Samuel Winchester. You don't discard something because it's broken. If you love it, you try everything in your power to fix it."

"He's right though Bobby, if he wants to kill himself, we can't stop him. He'll find a way."

"Then we need to be there, we need to take care of it, we need to watch him. We need to be his protectors."

Sam took a deep breath, closed hi eyes and rested against the counter. "I hope—" Crash! Sam and Bobby both jumped and ran towards the noise.

***

The door behind Sam slammed in Dean's estimation. He looked out over the salvage yard and the tears kept coming and he made no effort to wipe them away. Sam thought that he had taken away all of the means by which Dean could kill himself while sitting out here. The boy had no imagination, and what he did have was no match for the cold hard reality that Dean remembered every single second of. He had tortured people with far less equipment than was on his person at any single given time. He probably knew more ways of damaging the human body than anyone on the face of the planet. And if he knew how to damage, he most certainly knew how to take a life, especially his own.

The sounds of the first woman he tortured came back in force. She pleaded, and wept and with shaking hands he plunged the knife into her soul and she screamed. And what was worse, he learned to like the sounds of the screaming, the pleading, the begging. He fed off of the weakness of others. With one ill thought choice he started the whole mess, and here he was, too weak, too useless to do anything about it. So, he decided that he would do the next best thing. He stood, slowly and without emotion, and walked to the nearest car, picked up a discarded metal piece that belonged to one of the relics in the yard and smashed the window. The glass shards would be sufficient and as effective as any knife, box cutter or switchblade.

He was beginning to slice his arm, vertical, the right way to kill yourself, when the door slammed, and Sam and Bobby were running full tilt towards him. He continued to cut, unfazed by their yelling and their panic stricken voices. He was almost finished when a gigantic little brother tackled him to the ground. Dean sighed inwardly. The first attempt thwarted. His second would be successful. _You've won this round Sammy. But you wont' win the war._


	7. Chapter 7

And boy oh boy did Dean ever try. It got to the point that Sam and Bobby wouldn't even allow him to go to the bathroom by himself. And the day that Sam refused to allow Dean to close the door while he took care of business, was the day that Dean flew off of the handle.

"Why are you even bothering?" Dean asked, heat lacing his words. Dean Winchester's days of crying were over, now that he'd made his decision, he simply wanted to carry it out, and Bobby and Sam were making it impossible, and when Dean got frustrated, he got pissed.

"Because you're my brother."

"That excuse doesn't fly with me."

"Why is it an excuse when I say it but it is something important when you say it?"

"Because you don't mean it."

"What the hell Dean?"

"You don't even give a damn if I live or die. You did just fine when I was in hell, found yourself a new partner and everything."

"Give me a break Dean. I was torn up…"

"Yeah, right, so torn up you had to have sex with Ruby."

"You are going to hold that against me forever aren't you?"

"I'm going to hold it against you for as long as I live, and if I had my way, it would only be about another ten minutes. But because you are on some holy, wanna be martyr trip, you just won't let me off myself."

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why in the world do you want to die so badly Dean? Why? What have you done that is so horrible that it means you need to die? Haven't you had your fill of being dead? God knows I have."

"Whatever Sam. Just turn around for ten seconds and I'll be out of your hair."

"This has nothing to do with me. You know it and I know it! This is because you broke the first seal, because you tortured people in hell."

"And the hits just keep on coming." Dean mumbled, head hanging.

"No. No. It's the truth. You are a mess because you know it is your fault that this is happening." Hearing Sam say that this was his fault hurt more than when Castiel confirmed it. Why did he have to keep saying it? God, he knew that he was the one responsible for starting this mess, why did everyone have to continuously remind him of it?

"Dean, don't you think that they orchestrated this, don't you think that maybe the demons wanted this to happen this way, and they did everything in their power to make you make the decisions you made?"

"Yeah, it was their fault that I sold my soul. Yup. Of course. It sounds so easy doesn't it? The demons made me do it. The siren made me say it. I was possessed, it wasn't me. It's all so easy. So, simple to defer the guilt onto someone else. But truth is Sam, I did it, the cross road demon didn't want to make the deal, but I forced it. And Alistair didn't FORCE me to get off the rack and torture someone else. Nope. That was all me. All. Me."

"Dean…"

"And nothing you say, nothing Cass says, nothing Bobby says, would make it any different. I was the one who made those decisions, and now I'm the one who has to live with them. That's why I want to die. That's why….when I go this time, there will never be another chance of heaven, I just should be thrown back into the pit and take my punishment like a man. Just let me die, just let me get it over with."

"Dean…"

"No. Truly Sam. I shouldn't be here. I should be dead. What's dead should stay dead. I've done nothing right since I was four years old. And now, I've screwed up so big that the world will probably suffer for it."

"But, you can help Dean, you're a damn good hunter, you can hunt these sons of bitches and you can make everything right again."

"And who are these sons of bitches this time Sam? Do we even know?"

"Lilith."

"Of course, because everything always goes right back to Lilith and how you want to kill her, and how I'm holding you back." Dean shook his head and walked past his brother and straight down the stairs. Sam, mad and more frustrated than ever clomped down right behind him, Bobby stood at the foot of the stairs effectively cutting Dean off, forcing him to stay in the center of the stair case. "What? Are you two just going to stand there forever. That won't work. I'll figure out something."

"Come on Dean. You can't live like this son." Bobby said.

"I know. That's why I just want to end it." The tears started in his voice again. "God help me, I just want out. I'm no good like this." And the tears free flowed down his face.

"Dean… You are a good man." Sam said.

"Son, you are a good hunter." Bobby followed.

"And I started all of this." Dean pulled a knife out of his boot, one that Sam hadn't seen before, and before either of them could do anything, Dean plunged it towards his chest.

The alarm rang at 6:00 AM. Dean Smith woke up, happy and healthy, ready for another day at the office.


End file.
